Fiona's Fantasy
by Goldenleaf 1510
Summary: Pure romantic smut from the moment of the kiss at the end of "Friendly Fire". So smutty that it took me a long while to gather the nerve to publish. Please be warned.


**Disclaimer**: I don't own these gorgeous and sexy characters. I just ask them to come in and play.

**Author's note**: Written in October of 2010 and shared with friends, it has taken me this long to gather the nerve to publish something so scandalously smutty. "Friendly Fire" has inspired other fanfics, so I want to assure one and all that my dirty mind alone is responsible for what happens here.

**FIONA'S FANTASY**

His teeth released her lower lip, and he swiped the tip of his tongue along it, lingering at the corner of her mouth.

A satisfied smile crinkled his blue eyes, accentuating the scar that ran down his left cheekbone, and onto his cheek. He held her firmly in the embrace of their kiss, turned and laid her on the bed of the hotel room he was determined not to waste.

He pinched her left nipple, and the light stroke of his fingers down her side made her gasp and nip his neck in return. He held her tighter, his free hand grazing her flat stomach, fingers dancing along her hipbone. As she tried to wriggle out of his grasp, he pushed her down with the weight of his body, pressing her back against the bed. She felt his hand slide beneath her thong and caress her. She was wet already, and the fingers that explored her found easy access, sliding into her softly, out again, teasing, making her want more. His hand slid further between her legs. She relaxed, surrendering to his exploration, and moaned as his thumb entered her sex, and his wet fingers tickled her back entrance. Drawing his hand away, he grinned at her frustration.

"What's your fantasy, Fi?"

She felt at a distinct, and delicious, disadvantage. Naked except for her thong and platform sandals, feeling the texture of his shirt against her breasts, his rough jeans along her legs, and the silk bedspread beneath her, a fantasy played itself out in her mind in an instant.

"You, Michael. My fantasy is you. Everywhere."

A quick twist, and he allowed her to break from his arms and roll him onto his back.

"I want you here…" she whispered, kissing him hungrily, his lips, tongue, chin and neck all soft and warm and in her mouth. She tasted his skin, smelled his warm breath, felt his pulse, saw his half-closed eyes, and heard his moan as she straddled him.

"…and here," guiding his hand to her thong again. Now he curled up, met her lips, kissed and licked his way to her breasts. He bit a nipple, sucked, and pulled the other nipple between his fingers, and he knew she could feel his hardness through the denim as she rocked against him. The hand on her thong slid again beneath it, and he pushed two fingers into her as she ground down, throwing her head back. He let her ride his fingers for a moment longer, until with a deft movement, he was on top again, and pulled the bit of black lace off her cooperative legs, (how does she pull her feet through without those shoes catching on her thong?)

"…and here." She pulled his hands around her hips, onto and into her ass, wrapping her legs around him. He suddenly felt himself a captive of this lean naked power that held him to her; he wanted to invade her, as he knew she demanded. Constrained by his clothing, he wrestled free of her arms and legs and mouth, unable to unbutton, unbuckle and unzip fast enough.

Fiona's hands flew over his chest, pulling his shirt over his head, pinching his nipples as he fumbled with his jeans. They wrestled his clothes and shoes off, vying for dominance; mouths licking and biting, hands grappling , until she grasped his cock and lowered her head. Michael fell back, panting, hands in her hair.

"There you go, Michael. Let me feel you. Let me… taste you." She licked up and down his cock, then engulfed him. Sucked, and released. She smiled up at him wickedly. "Yes, you are still… quite…alive." Lowering her head, she teased him, circling the head of his cock with her tongue, tickling his slit, then descended slowly, inch by inch, again and again. As she gently caressed his balls, she moved her hand further back, and it was his turn to surrender to her exploration. Fiona teased and pressed a finger into his opening, reveling in the power she felt as he tightened and gasped.

"No, Fi, not yet. Not. Yet."

"Oh no, Michael not yet. I haven't had enough of you. Get up."

She held him to her, naked body to naked body, beside the bed. Turning, she lead him to the door, and out onto the balcony. She pulled him to the railing, feeling the ocean breeze across her skin. The night air caressed them both, and he drew to her with a smile on his lips.

Lit by the moonlight, her body was rendered in black and white, like a photograph. She took his breath away as she had the first time he saw her nude. As she did every time he saw her. As he could never find the words or the strength or the honesty to say. Instead, he fell to his knees, not sure if it was passion or worship, and pressed his mouth to her. He found her most private parts with his tongue and his fingers, and lingered, sucking and fondling. (When you're a spy, you should always know your partner's weaknesses, and strengths.) He felt her quiver, twine her fingers in his hair, and pull him off of her. He stood and kissed her on the mouth, his lips soft and open, letting her tongue dance sweetly with his, tasting herself.

Turning her back to him, Fiona pressed back against his cock and smiled at his low groan as she teased him, rolling side to side across his hardness, imprisoning it between them. She pulled his hands around her body, one to her breasts and the other slowly down along her flat stomach and lower, to where she wanted him most. He skimmed his middle finger along the landing strip of her waxed mound, and spread her gently. Fiona purred, bent forward against the cool balcony rail, and moved her legs apart. He bent his knees, guided himself with his fingers, and pushed his cock forward and into her sex. They gasped in unison, and rocked against each other, feeling the wind on their faces, her breasts, their thighs, his back. She pushed his hand away from her clit, and around to her ass. As she touched herself, Michael pressed his thumb against her back entrance, and gently pushed it into her. He pinched her nipple with the other hand, and bent his head to her shoulder to bite the muscle at the side of her neck, hard, leaving a mark. He kissed the bite mark and continued, tiny sharp kisses and bites up to her ear. Gently he held her ear between his teeth, sucking and flicking it with his tongue. He felt her shiver, and smiled at the goosebumps he raised as her knees went weak and she fell further onto him.

With her eyes closed, her world was nothing but Michael within her and around her. Fiona was full of him, rocking back onto his cock, feeling him pushing it and his thumb deep into her. Her mouth was empty, and she needed him there too; turned her head to capture his with hers. He met her and filled her. Bit her lip again, challenging her. It was a battle, each trying to consume the other.

As he pressed further into her with each movement of their hips, Michael's hand left her breast, and moved up her chest and neck. He ghosted his fingers along her chin, feeling the curve of her jaw and the fullness of her lips like a blind man trying to see a sculpture. He broke away from their kiss and let her devour his hand, let her lick his palm, suck the base of his thumb, his fingers. His hand was as sensitive now as his cock, feeling her heat, her slickness, as though hand and cock were one, joined by her body pulling him into her.

They rocked in an increasing rhythm, feeling each other in a new way, filling each others' spaces, physically and emotionally. As Michael thrust deeper, with his hand and thumb and cock, Fiona claimed him totally. He growled into her ear, unable to speak any word other than her name. "Fi…Fi…" When he dissolved into her, his orgasm blinding him, she felt his surge, his pulses, and she came with his final shudder.

They leaned quietly against the balcony rail, motionless; Michael wrapped around Fiona, letting the sea breeze cool them. They slid apart, and she turned in his arms. The moonlight glistened on the sweat that ran down his face, and in a soft trickle down his chest. Fiona couldn't resist tasting him again, and licked her way across his muscled chest, biting his collarbone before sliding her tongue up his neck to his ear. Nipping across his jaw to his chin, she kissed the scar there, then captured his lower lip between her teeth, bit, and ran her tongue along it to the corner of his mouth.

"Nice hotel," she said, and walked into their room, wearing nothing but CFM sandals.

Before entering the room, Michael turned, and said to the night air, "Enjoy the show, Gilroy?"

Fiona smiled.


End file.
